On The Dino Soars, Stegosaurus Rex presents an interesting collection of homemade electronica. Unlike most bedroom computer-made albums, The Dino Soars jumps across styles, touching on hip-hop and house beats, downbeat trip-hop, electro-pop, and even a bit of experimental, droney electronica.

Where the album really shines is with the more beat-oriented tracks. Opening song “East Bay Kickback” starts the album off strong with a great sample and a solid drum beat, making it the kind of song you would hear in your head while drinking a beer outside on a warm Oakland evening. Another standout track is “Six Sixteen.” A great sample and solid hip-hop beat drive this track as it steadily moves through the opening string loop to a chopped-up vocal chorus and back again to the string loop as it is filtered out.

The album also features some great uptempo tracks. On tracks like “Polar” and “Fleeting Disco Do,” Stegosaurus creates great disco-style house. Catchy samples that he cuts and rearranges as the song progresses, solid bass lines, and some good ‘ol techno beats make these tracks dancefloor-worthy.

Where this album doesn’t work as well is in the less beat-oriented and vocal tracks. These tracks especially lack in production value. The sounds are thin and dull compared to the earlier mentioned songs and have a hard time fitting in with the rest of the album sonically. A little more cohesiveness throughout the album and a step up in production level could put Stegosaurus Rex on the same level as a lot of the stuff on Ninja Tune Records.

Oh, deceitful memory! Every show seen at protean Bottom of the Hill leaves an entirely different impression. Bottom of the Hill is not the seedy den of patched woolens and greasy-headed rockulidge of Sebadoh shows past! It is not the brightly colored, enthusiastic pop brilliance of AC Newman and the yuppies, blazered and bangled, cheerfully listening, smiling, ecstatic! Bottom of the Hill could be anything to anybody.

Frank Zappa once derided the American consumer by quipping that Americans experience music as an accoutrement to their lifestyles. That may be true, but –- to sidestep the obvious question of how the denizens of other nations experience their music -– thinking of music in terms of its utility and function can be a useful exercise. Some records are perfect to study to. Others provide the perfect soundtrack for a long drive, or a vigorous and sweat drenched work out, or the faux-cosmopolitanism of a dinner party with your now-balding college drinking buddies as guests, etc.

Songs from the City on the Sun by Oakland’s Boy in the Bubble seems to defy function. It is hard to imagine a situation that the record would suit perfectly. Musically interesting without fumbling too far toward the follies of overeager experimentalism, this is a solid pop record seemingly content with its lack of a place in the world. Find the perfect time and place to listen to this record, one that can be repeated by anybody, and I’ll buy you a milkshake.

While not precisely a genre-hopper, the record ricochets between the caterwauling 1950s-influenced guitar swells of “Danger,” the bratty sneering, foot stomping, and accordion whine of “When You Walk Around This City,” and the pedal-steel drenched dirge of “I Can’t Remember.” Boy in the Bubble takes a risk in appropriating such a wide range of sounds and influences, but Songs from the City on the Sun remains surprisingly consistent. The record has something pleasantly reminiscent of 1990s Brit-pop acts like Kula Shakur (though I wouldn’t go so far as to compare it to the finer acts of the era such as Pulp, Stone Roses, and Blur).

Songs from the City on the Sun is at its worse when its empty-headed songwriting is privileged over its hooky musicality, and lead singer Josh Seidenfeld’s voice seems stretched beyond its limits at times. But, on the whole, it’s a pretty good pop record and worth a listen.

By Tyler Corelitz

It seems like only months ago that I first heard about San Francisco duo the Dodos. I felt cool for listening to what I thought was an extremely awesome, but relatively obscure band, that just happened to be playing in my college’s cafeteria. Now, after a year on the road, these Bay Area starlets are gaining national attention on the eve of their sophomore full length release, Visiter, which comes out March 18th on Frenchkiss Records.

The Dodos’ passion for their music is undeniable by the amount of energy they put off in their live shows, which the band has tapped as a major influence for Visiter. Live, it can be hard to tell who is driving who, as the airy vocals and finger-picked guitar of Meric Long mesh with the hyper-rhythmic drumming of Logan Kroeber. Maybe Animal Collective covering Mississippi John Hurt or The Velvet Underground with chops? This formula is showcased on their single “Fools,” as the song alternates between pulsing rim clicks, catchy guitar riffs, and undeniable vocal hooks; all of which can and will be independently stuck in the listener’s head.

As an album, Visiter is truly a nod to the talent of Kroeber, who bills himself as an experimental percussionist. While the experimental nomenclature — for a drummer — can lend itself to self indulgent beats and sounds, Kroeber shows maturity in his ability to play for the song. For the Dodos, this often means creating moments of immense space and tension, by simply alternating accents or textures to highlight Long’s guitar and vocals. This attention to detail can be heard at the end of “Fools,” as Long begins chanting “I’ve been, I’ve been silent,” the listener realizes that the drums have suddenly stopped, only to return in a beautiful pop build that climaxes over Long’s continued chanting.

Through a twist of fate I ran into the Dodos as they were about to film for super-hip French video blog La Blogoteque. As my friends and I followed them through the relatively deserted streets of San Francisco, clapping and singing into a BART station, I realized that I was standing very near to Long; not out of lust or for lack of hearing, but because the Dodos have managed to make music worth getting close to.

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 2/27/08.

Touch My Rash, Doomed from the Start, Pissed-off frustration can be therapeutic, and San Jose’s Touch My Rash delivers the goods with a subtle sense of humor. Lead singer Colin Kutch affects a snarl that’s just punk enough, while the music is reliably simple, fast, and catchy. What healthier way to spend 28 minutes? (Bittersick Records)

Fluorescent Grey, Gaseous Opal Orbs. Though GOO’s shapeless, heavily experimental electronic tableaus are pretty far out-there, Robbie Martin’s sophomore disc as Fluorescent Grey contains his most accessible compositions yet — which goes to show that perception is everything. (Record Label Records)

Gemini Soul, The Nefertiti Experience. Jazz doesn’t get much funkier, or perhaps it’s the other way around. Gemini Soul’s smooth, groovy fusion (they call it “cyber jazz”) rests on the poppin’ fingers of bandleader and bass-master Andre Ajamu Akinyele. (Pearl Jazz Recording Label)

Killian Garnet MacGeraghty, Celebration Songs. Gun & Doll Show frontman MacGeraghty recorded imaginative, quasi-pop theme songs for Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and more, then threw them alongside a few non-holiday numbers. Even when repeated in five languages, his version of “Happy Birthday” doesn’t get old. (Mad Chatter Records)

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 2/20/08.

The Federalists, The Federalists. Professional-quality album art suggests this East Bay rock group means business. Indeed, after spending all of 2007 on the record, the four members look forward to extensive touring. The kicker: their grasp on classic pop is strong enough to get them noticed here and everywhere else. (self-released)

Rennick, 611-07-0681. Rennick’s sophomore record features gothic electro-pop done about as well as you’re likely to find. That’s good, because he’s going for broke: the title is his Social Security number. “The most trusting … act that any one person can ever do,” reads a note in the inside sleeve, “is to provide full exposure to all without fear.” (Rennick Music Group)

Spandex Tiger, Dumpster Love. Anyone expecting trash will get it. Late at night, looking for some pussy is the first line singer Rich Filthy growls. Really dumb, mostly fun rock is what you find in songs like “Tijuana Hand Job,” “Hemorrhoid,” and “Cock Vein,” though you’d better be drunk in a dive bar to actually appreciate them. (Hunkerdown Productions)

Xiu Xiu, Women as Lovers. Jamie Stewart’s most accessible batch of songs yet is still pretty freaky. His voice is a whisper, his melodies are ghostly, and his songs are populated with unidentifiable sounds. But by reducing his emotional distance and allowing his songcraft to mature, Stewart found what he probably always wanted: art for all of us. (Kill Rock Stars)

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 2/6/08.

Sean Smith, Eternal (Gnome Life Records). Like the best poetry, Eternal engages from the start and expands with each pass. Built upon Smith’s Eastern-influenced acoustic guitar and sparing contributions from four fellow instrumentalists, the disc explores both the form and sound of music through seven joyous, contemplative tracks.

Chinese Bookie, Is That You Behind Those Foster Grants? EP (self-released). It’d be a shame if the best song on here were a cover, and while Chinese Bookie — née San Francisco’s Viola Keeton — does a wicked awesome version of New Order’s “Age of Consent,” this five-track electro-pop debut also features three winning originals.

The Hipwaders, Educated Kid (self-released). Kids’ music that doesn’t drive adults nuts is a trend to get behind. The Hipwaders have been at it since ‘04, even performing at Lollapalooza last year. Their third album offers a thoroughly tolerable batch of pop songs about behaving well with siblings, using the Dewey Decimal System, and falling asleep.

Liz Kennedy, Clean White Shirt (Jaggo Records). Kennedy’s supporters like to tag her as “Bonnie Raitt without the slide guitar,” though I wouldn’t be so rash. Whereas Raitt can’t quite move beyond her showy blueswoman persona, Kennedy sings from her piano bench with the subdued tone of an artist not seeking attention but earning it.

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 1/30/08.

Creepy, The Triple EP (Teeno Records). San Francisco punk trio Creepy converts a collection of three new songs and two previously released EPs, one dating back to 2003, into a fine thirty-minute full-length. The group’s effortless balance of aggression and melody could find itself a good home on the Warped Tour.

Hot Challenge, Hot Challenge EP (self-released). Featuring three brothers and a friend, San Francisco pop-rock act Hot Challenge has a leg up in the chemistry department. But this isn’t enough to mask the fact that the ten-month-old band still needs time to mature and tighten up.

Silence Is Safety, Silence Is Safety (Teeno Records). There’s a lot to like about Silence Is Safety’s sound: a nice blend of pop- and old-school punk, a tight rhythm section, the ability to slow things down without stopping them dead. Unfortunately, showy vocals from frontwoman Red tend to overpower everything else.

Daddy Cool Productions, Call Me Daddy Cool (self-released). Daddy Cool is one Charles Davis: studio wonk, songwriter, music instructor, and bassist-for-hire. This record finds Davis’ friends returning the favor, as eight musicians in varying roles help flesh out his homage to funk lords James Brown, Bootsy Collins, and George Clinton.

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 1/16/08.

Wayward Sway, On a Broken Machine (self-released). Sufjan Stevens, eat your heart out: These folks know how to rock a banjo the way it was meant to be rocked. Mandolin and violin, too. Wayward Sway’s bluegrass rock is refreshingly authentic, original, and full of life.

The May Fire, La Victoria EP (Rock Whores Recordings). This San Francisco group’s second EP of ‘07 — part of a plan to keep fresh product in the marketplace — is a mixed bag of six punky alt-rock tunes. Opener “Make It Right” takes the cake with a fuzzed-out pop jam straight from Weezer’s early days.

Tracy Johnson, Dreams in Cold Weather (Snowfire Records). Mega-polished pop-rock from an ex-Minnesotan. That said, it’s an impressive debut. Johnson wrote or co-wrote every song, sings like a mainstream Natalie Merchant, and actually has something to say. Single “The Good Life” is a huge hit in Turkey.

Nedelle, The Locksmith Cometh (Tangram 7s). Folk music this quiet should be extraordinarily pretty or powerful, and The Locksmith Cometh is neither. It’s just there: Nedelle’s preciously thin voice; scant guitar, violin, and keyboard accompaniments; and short, nevertheless meandering songs.

Reviews originally published in the East Bay Express on 1/2/08.

The Grannies: Incontinence (Wondertaker). A decade’s bounty of suitably sloppy punk rock outtakes and demos from a rotating cast of eight dudes shamelessly adorned in gaudy dresses, ragged wigs, and copious tats. Dig the cover of “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding.”

Big Vik: Intro (self-released). Brent “Bik Vik” Victory wants to make it big as a songwriter and producer. To showcase his skills, the still-underground Oakland artist composed this so-so sampler of status-quo urban and pop sounds. Time will tell if it’s enough to propel Vik to the next level.

DJ True Justice: True Justice (self-released). DJ True Justice’s taste is commendable, though not quite as hot as the scratching he cuts through this satisfying set of underground Bay Area hip-hop and R&B.

David Gans: Twisted Love Songs (Perfectible Recordings). Berkeleyites love quirky folk songs about corrupt conservatives (the enemy) and odd characters (a vision of themselves, perhaps), and Gans delivers on both fronts. All fine and dandy, but it’s the six instrumental tracks that truly impress.